


A Promise

by Kerryl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Actually just Moriarty, Between Seasons/Series, Gen, Mild spoiler for The Final Problem, Post-Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Pre-Reichenbach, Pre-The Final Problem, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerryl/pseuds/Kerryl
Summary: On the news is a high-functioning sociopath. Watching the news is his sworn enemy.Jim Moriarty made a promise to Sherlock Holmes, and he intends to keep it.





	A Promise

_“In a dramatic sequence of events, consulting detective Sherlock Holmes solves yet another baffling case. Based on the detective’s tip, Scotland Yard officers tracked down and arrested the infamous Salesman as he got off the London Eye. The Salesman has gained notoriety in the media over the past few months for a series of…”_

The man reaches for the remote and turns up the volume on the telly.

_“…here to tell us more about the case is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard.”_

DI Lestrade looks stressed as he answers the reporter. It’s obvious, from the nearly invisible twitch in the corner of his eye, that he would really rather _not_ be here, speaking on national television, close to midnight at the London Eye, a group of curious bystanders watching as the criminal is hauled away. When the reporter finally wraps up the questioning, his relief is clear. The reporter faces the camera and begins speaking again but the man watching is uninterested. His eyes follow Lestrade to the corner of the frame, where the inspector stands with two men, one in an unremarkable brown jumper and the other towering over him in a blue coat with the collar turned up.

The man mutes the audio and leans forward in his armchair to focus on the three men. 

Despite the pressure of the situation and his evident exhaustion, Lestrade seems more relaxed around these two than the reporter. His face is still tense, but his hands are no longer hidden away in his pockets. After a brief conversation, he nods tersely and walks away to confer with a group of his colleagues. The man in front of the telly watches the blue-coated figure still in the corner of the screen turn away, and manages to catch a smile before he disappears with his short companion.

Satisfied, the man leans back in his chair and switches off the screen. He idly reaches for a stack of photographs lying on the table beside him.

The man in the blue coat is in every single photo. One photo of him smiling down at a middle-aged lady emerging from a door marked _221B_. One photo of him crouching over a dead body and looking up at DI Lestrade. One photo of him peering at a phone handed to him by the man in the jumper on TV. There are more, but these are the important ones.

These are the photos of consulting detective Sherlock Holmes with three people he cares about, probably the three people he cares most about. The man’s hand slips to reveal a photo of a woman in a lab coat pulling on a pair of gloves, and he pauses for a moment. He knows this woman, and so does Sherlock. Should he add her to his list?

But in the photo Sherlock is looking through a microscope, not at the lady in the lab coat. The man shuffles the photo to the back of the pile. No, he won’t add her.

He sets aside the pile and picks up the phone lying in his lap. His thumbs flit over the keys as he types out his orders. With a final decisive tap of a key to send his message, he drops the phone on top of the photographs and stares into space. In his mind’s eye he can see the snipers hidden on rooftops, the red dots that will flicker onto the foreheads of the people in the photos.

“I promised you, Sherlock,” he says to the empty flat, his voice slow and mocking, just as it was in those recordings he made for the mad genius locked in her glass prison at Sherrinford.

“Promised me what?” he can hear his nemesis’ calm voice ask in his head.

He smiles. “I promised to burn the heart out of you,” replies Jim Moriarty.


End file.
